


To Have & To Hold

by slyyywriting



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pining, Single Dad AU, mob boss reader, single dad bucky barnes, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyyywriting/pseuds/slyyywriting
Summary: Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter basically sets the picture for the story, like the first five minutes of a romantic comedy.

The sun was about to peak from horizon as new day was about to dawn on the city. The foliage was becoming thicker as the weather started to warm up again. The browns were turning into lighter greens as you speed through asphalt roads that wound up upstate, bringing with it a new color of hope in your chest.

The radio is turned down to a minimum as you try and navigate curves leading up to your home. You felt refreshed despite staying up for almost two days, pumping out every bit of energy you could muster because you knew deep in your gut that this was the last time you were ever going to get your hands dirty. The last forty hours was the means to an end of blood and terror.

The radio now buzzes as the morning news breaks down the events from the previous night-

“Top of the morning New York, better hold on to your breakfast because this morning brings blood; police last night found all top members of the Cavallari Mob slaughtered in their family home in Washington Heights. Police had not disclosed the full details but it was stated that the members were gunned down in short range. No suspects as of yet has surfaced but-“

You zone out the voice as you pull up to your drive way, gravel crunching under the weight of the car. You turn off the engine with a long, heavy exhale, leaning down your forehead on the steering wheel. Taking a moment, with eyes closed, you ponder on the future where you can finally breathe as freely as possible, not having to constantly look over your shoulder, check your surroundings for the nearest possible exit, not even having to sleep with one eye open (is it figurative? For you, maybe not).

Three more cars enter your driveway as you exit your own vehicle, men wearing black clothing of various kinds from suits to leather jackets to Henley’s, come out of their own rides before lining up on the grassy area of your front yard. You sigh contemplatively before finding your lead man’s eyes. They were as blue as a lake on a clear day. At first you thought it was exhaustion that riddled them, but upon a second glance you confirmed that it was now filled with relief, like a patch of land that finally got to see rain after years of drought.

You cleared your throat twice before marching to were the men were standing, awaiting for further instruction just like they have done a hundred times before. Now, you stand before them, trying to keep your posture as straight and commanding as possible but your feet are now filled with a dull ache, screaming to be rested.

“Thank you for all your hard work. We are now free because of your efforts-“ you begin, voice raspy from the constant fear it has kept under silence, “-I’m, I could not have done it without you.”

Tentative glances toward each other were given by the men, a couple of smirks forming in the corners of their mouths. When it looked like you were about to have a seizure from trying to find your words, your lead man stepped in from the line to help out, or so you thought.

“I think what the Boss is trying to say is that you guys did great and you can all go home now!” He says mirthfully. “Stick around for your payments, maybe some breakfast then get your asses back to your families.”

A cheer erupts from the men and you duck your head as a grin takes over your face. You signal the man to follow you before turning around and heading to your front door. As soon as you were in the foyer of your home, you peel off your shoes and toss them off near the coat closet before returning your attention to the man behind you.

“Thank you, Steve.” You sigh at him. He looked as tired as you felt, maybe even more. His golden hair was dishevelled and you could spot a couple of specks of blood that must have splattered on his face from last night’s operation. “I’m not really good with gratitude- giving orders, though, I’m excellent at that.”

Both of you chuckle at your admission, Steve waiving his hand to brush it off.

“No problem. They know what you mean, Boss. You don’t have to enthrall them.”

“I know. I’m just- thank you.”

“You said that already.” He smiles again, this time much wider. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll talk business again after the weekend.”

And with that you bid your number one goodbye and headed upstairs to your room, hoping to nap for the next month.

\---

“Is that the best that you can do?” a small voice challenges him. He isn’t riled up yet but his patience is wearing thin. Patience to the circumstance? Maybe. Patience to himself? Definitely.

“And what if it is?” he challenges back. The owner of the voice looks at him through his reflection on the decorative mirror positioned in front of his on the wall. There is a glint in her eyes that he has seen before but could not pin point as to when and where. Then she huffs and crosses her arms before squinting her eyes at him. No, he must remain unmoved. He cannot waiver, not this early in the game.

And then she does something that surprises him. It’s a power move, unthinkable even for him. For almost five minutes, he thought that he was ahead of the curve but alas he is unmatched. She finally reaches for the material on her head, fingers positioned threateningly above it, eyes as if daring to say ‘your move’. And before he could protest, she yanks off the material and he whisper-screams in defeat.

“Nooooo! Why-“ and for the thousandth time since this relationship commenced, he is once again left speechless in defeat. “It was okay already!”

“Daddy, I love you but I’ve seen horses with better pigtails.” The little girl now skips from her father’s lap and approaches the mirror, clasping big hair pins on her head. She pats it down twice before giving a satisfied nod to her reflection and turning around to show her old man, his mouth still slightly ajar.

“I’ll try better next time okay? I was just nervous because you’re going to be late for school and I’m going to be late for opening the café.” He reasons out before grabbing his things and ushering his child downstairs.

He makes for the coffee maker while she moves around the kitchen trying to gather ingredients for her breakfast. He looks at her in amazement, her hair longer now, bounces about even with the top parts pinned down. “It’s just breakfast, you sap” he reminds himself but somehow he feels a tear building in the corner of his eye. His brave, little big girl does not need her daddy anymore to fix her breakfast.

She’s now chewing on cereal, humming a show tune he knows but quite can’t get right. Unknowingly, he wraps her tiny head into his arms and kisses the top multiple times before she groans in protest.

“I love you my big bunny. I can’t believe you’re in first grade now.” He says, words muffled into her hair. He holds her in this position, eyes closed in the hopes the tears won’t fall. A moist sensation appears on his forearm prompting him to let her loose. “Did you just lick me, Bailey Barnes?”

“Yes, because you are making us more late by crying on me, Daddy.” She rolls her eyes before continuing to eat her breakfast, legs dangling freely from her stool.

He finally snaps out of his funk with a smile and proceeds with his morning, driving his daughter to school and opening his café.

\---

An image of a gun unfolds before your eyes. It’s too close for comfort and you feel a droplet of sweat roll down from your nape to your back. Someone is saying something to you but everything is slurred and movements seemed to be in slow motion. Bile is starting to rise from your throat, breath hitching-

You’re awoken with the shrill tone emitting from your phone. You glance at it and answer upon seeing the caller ID.

“Yeah?”

“I need you down at HQ. Things to sign, hands to shake and all that.” Steve’s voice comes through, breathier than usual.

“Are you running?” you ask incredulous, the man was like a machine without the word relax in his programming.

“See you at 9-“ he says before hanging up.

You rub your face with both hands, still lying down in your warm bed. It’s only been days since the reckoning night yet you feel like the celebration had died down too soon. The plan was to retake your grandfather’s old business from those who took it from his hands via bullet to his head. You tracked down everyone who betrayed him and hunted them all to the ground, burned down their warehouses and bought off their connections from different states. The power had to return to your hands, a mammoth task but it had to be done. Now, you get a chance to wipe the blood off of your hands and run your business out of the shadows. You deserved to start anew.

The bell on the café door dings and a unison of good mornings and welcomes echoes inside. Steve brushes his hair back with his hand before spotting his best friend at the counter, sporting an apron with the café’s logo.

“Morning, Buck. I’ll have my usual and a large double shot latte, and a breakfast sandwich.” He orders, leaning onto the counter.

“Morning. You planning to run a marathon today?” Bucky lifts an eyebrow at his friend. Curious why he was asking for food fully aware that Steve Rogers does not leave his home on an empty stomach.

“No, jerk. Boss coming in today, need to make a good impression.” He winks before taking a seat in the corner.

“Oh, better make this one extra good then. A thanks for her paying you too well.” Bucky laughs as he passes the order to the kitchen window. He’s heard of Steve’s boss but has never seen her. He does know that she was too generous towards his blonde friend who was basically both a glorified secretary and bodyguard, gave him ridiculously expensive birthday and Christmas gifts, and not to mention bought him a three-story red brick house in suburban Brooklyn.

He now eyes Steve, busying himself with his phone, suit pressed to the nines even for a normal work day. Almost unrecognizable when they first got discharged from the military. Bucky had been okay with settling down and opening his own café, a dream put out on hold for too long, while Steve was less alright, always tinkering with stuff, could not sit still for more than thirty minutes to save his life. And then one day four years ago while Bucky was fixing up the café bought off its previous owner, his best friend announced how he got a job similar to his role in the army that pays better and is altogether safer than trudging out into a desert. He was going to be a rich heiress’ personal assistant and on hand muscle.

Steve waves goodbye as he picks up his orders from the counter and heads up the street to where Bucky thinks he works. Just in time as your car pulls up in your designated parking spot, the brawny blonde smiles at you as he reaches the bottom of the building’s steps.

You step out of the car in a custom tailored, white pant suit and oversized white Gucci shades, barely covering an almost semi-permanent scowl. He hands you your coffee and sigh in defeat.

“You’re forgiven.” You begin as you walk up the stairs. "But, a couple of things: One, if this is the new HQ, I need to live closer because I cannot wake up in the ass crack of dawn to beat traffic so I can get here on time-“

He hums in agreement, opening the double paned doors for you, nodding to various people in the lobby, then ushering you to the elevator.

“-Two, I need a permanent spot I can sit at when I don’t want to be in this office. Somewhere with good food and better coffee.” You finish as the elevator door closes. Again, Steve hums in agreement.

“Done, and done.” He smiles down at you while you look straight. The elevator doors open again to your office’s floor and as you walk in, he calls your name making you turn around. “Good luck on your first day of work, Boss!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boss and the Barnes's finally cross paths! There's a storm coming but they'll be fine, right?

Summer is officially over as indicated by the popping up of college students into the café, like daisies from the ground declaring the end of winter. The working class in suits and blazers kept at a steady pace but will soon be flooding again once tax season or something akin to being a functioning adult nears. For now Bucky is just happy he decided to push through with buying the shop, even with the costly renovation, because being behind the counter as an owner just hit different.

Sure, money wasn’t as good as he’d hope but at least he wasn’t trying-to-sleep-hunger-off broke like when he and Steve were kids. The main reason they were in the military was because it allowed them to afford basic things, which was tragic really. But now, with a café strategically positioned, it was enough to ensure that they would not run out of customers even if a Starbucks decides to spring out of the ground in the same street as theirs.

The morning was uneventful until Bucky gets a call from Bailey’s school.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m sorry but something happened with Bailey—“ the voice, sounded nice on the surface, cordial even, but there was a lying undertone, “She’s fine but we need you to come in and see her.”

“What happened?”

“She got into a fight with another kid from her class.”

Bucky sighs, the disbelief exiting his body. Not even a month in and his little kid had started fighting already. He’s not sure where she gets it, hell, he was always trying not to get into fights as much as he can. He was the one pacifying fights, even. He tells Sam, his business partner, ex-air force, the situation and the latter chuckles commenting about how being raised by a bunch of wolves had rubbed off on his daughter. The man shakes his head, wondering why he was the only one concerned about her well-being really. He runs out of the shop and tries to maintain the speed limit on the way to the school.

When he gets to the guidance office he spots his daughter sitting on one of the chairs in the hallway. Her hair was a mess, pulled in all sides, with her clothes dishevelled. Must have been one hell of a fight, he thinks with a small smirk. He then kneels before her, rubbing a knee in comfort. Before he even says anything, Bailey tries to envelope her dad with her small arms, depositing her chin in the crook of his neck. She’s sniffling quietly as he returns the gesture with calming strokes to her small back.

“What happened, Bails?” he finally asks her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine but Misty shouldn’t have said that!” her little voice croaks at him, his heart breaks a little.

“Said what, bunny?”

“She said I was not allowed to draw a picture with a mom because I don’t have one.”

The words ring into Bucky’s ears as she pulls away from him. He cups her face completely with one hand and rubs away the freshly fallen tears. He sighs before kissing her forehead and stands to enter the counsellor’s office. The sight before him was more nerve wracking than anything he’s been ever subjected to. Four pairs of eyes were on him the moment he opened the door.

Four women had flanked him. The guidance counsellor who looked like she just attended a mass service (why was she wearing a hat indoors?), Bailey’s first grade teacher who was sporting a pout, Misty with a bloody nose and a wrecked double bun and who he assumed as Misty’s mom, wearing a scowl.

Bucky sat to one of the chairs he was directed to and braced himself for the incoming assault. He’d taken insults before but this was way scarier, being bombarded with personal questions he didn’t think was necessary. When they were all done he just said,

“I apologize for what Bailey did, I taught her better than that. But maybe you should teach your kid better that it’s not very nice to point out that someone does not have a mother when clearly she had no choice with the matter.”

And with that he exits the office despite the following gasps behind him, scoops his child into his arms and drives her back to where she could feel safe.

\---

“Cross that old geezer off the list!” you seethe as you exit the conference room. How dare he imply that he had dirt on you when he had the gall to try and extract money from you for his campaign? “Whoever his strongest competitor is, let’s make anonymous donations.”

Steve grunts a reply signaling your actual secretary for instructions. You stopped in the middle of walking when you saw a couple of people at the waiting area outside your office. You look back at Steve, eyes pleading to rescue you.

“You know, I’ve seen you run into gun fire with nothing but a .45 and a pocket knife.” He huffs in amusement. “And now you’re telling me you’re scared of having a meeting with a bunch of businessmen?”

“Well, I can’t really make them stop talking by pointing a gun at them, now can I?” you roll your eyes as you take cover behind a decorative plant. “I’m not good at talking to people— you know this.”

Yes, he knows. You don’t like small talking with people who you know just wants a percentage of something you run or wants to squeeze you out of money by blackmail. You were too impatient and did not have enough practice. So he does what he thinks is best, he hands you a business card and tells you in a fake surprised voice that it’s already lunch time and you should probably eat. You roll your eyes again at him but mutter a thank you as you dash, as inconspicuously as possible, towards the elevators. Your built-like-a-brick-wall of a right man walks towards your remaining guests, expressing his apologies as something came up and you couldn’t meet them. God bless him.

The café is buzzing as the lunch crowd poured in through the doors. Bucky’s head is starting to spin with alternating from taking orders at the cash register to making drinks at the bar behind him. He wasn’t penny pinching by hiring a smaller staff, okay maybe a little because he did not want to underpay anyone, but it was more of because he liked to keep the café as homey as possible. A five-staff café, including two of its owners, was completely reasonable. Hopefully.

“Bails, I’ll have your spaghetti in a bit okay? Uncle Sammy is on it.” He tells his daughter, tucked away in a small corner table, coloring an art book her other uncle bought for her. She nods, not looking up from the paper and he knows she was still upset with this morning’s incident. He wanted to explain more about why she didn’t have a mom anymore but he hasn’t had a break since returning to the shop. He kisses the top of her head before proceeding to clear out a couple of tables to be occupied.

You arrive at the café and look at it tentatively. This was the spot Steve chose? It was small and jam packed. You open the door and the bell dings above you, followed by a chorus of welcomes. The moment you stepped inside— _oh._ And now you understood why your number one chose this. The inside was homey as hell, rich browns and earthy creams made the inside warm and welcoming. You smiled as you reached the counter, greeted by a woman who might have been a college student. You looked at the board behind her where the specials were written and settled for her recommendations. You paid and navigated around the café for a free table. You could get used to the ambiance, you thought—if only you could grab a seat.

A corner table near the bar counter caught your eye. A little girl was sitting alone, head buried in a huge book she was coloring the shit out of. You approach her and clear your throat.

“Hey, is someone sitting here?” you ask quietly, not sure how to talk to a child. Wait, was your question too mean? Too abrupt?

Your inner monologue hushes down as she shakes her head, head still bent. You smile a little awkwardly and pull the seat out of the table. You settle down and put your tiny purse next to her box of colored pencils. For a minute you sat in silence, scrolling through your phone for emails when you caught the little girl’s eye.

“I like your nails,” she mumbles quickly, still focused on her drawings. “They look like the sky.”

“They really do. I was aiming for that.” You respond, checking them before looking back at her with a small smile.

“My dad says I’m not allowed to paint mine, yet” she says, this time her hand stops their ministrations on the pages. You smile at her empathetically, remembering how your grandfather was adamant not to let you do girly things as well when you were younger. Then you got to talking how the paint was safe to use because they were organic.

Across the café, Bucky looks up after receiving payment from a table who was about to leave. He then spots his little girl giggling up a storm with a stranger sitting across her. Grace, one of his staff, approaches their table and places Bailey’s food in front of her. The stranger, he now sees better, is a posh looking woman wearing a navy dress, her elbows on the table and full attention on his seven-year old. She’s smiling like they’ve known each other forever. His observation gets cut short as he’s called to clear up another table.

You enjoy your lunch much better as you tiny company interviews you like she was paid to do it. She asks about the ‘bajillion’ bracelets on your wrists and your shiny watch, and your cool flower shaped necklace, and your “wait, are you wearing earrings too?”, you reply yes and push your hair behind your ears to show her before she goes into a small rant where her dad promised to get her ears pierced but he must’ve forgotten so she’s waiting for her birthday to remind him again.

You _ooh_ and _ahh_ at all the little girl’s ramblings, finding her cute as she scrunches her nose when she thinks of things she’s not allowed to do or when her eyes crinkle in the corners when she’s laughing at your own stories about your grandpa. She finally asks you your name and tells you hers in turn. You shake her tiny hand and she giggles at the way your bracelets make noise when you do.

“You’re really pretty. And nice,” the little girl tell you nonchalantly after the both of you were done eating. “Not like the moms at my school.”

That makes you look up at her, worry filling your head. “What do you mean, sweets?”

“They always tell me I should fix my hair. And my clothes. They said I look grummy because I don’t have a mommy.”

Unknowingly, you reach out for her tiny hands over the table and rub circles on them with your thumb. How does someone have such small hands?! You wondered as you look at her, trying to formulate something nice to say.

“Sweets, you don’t look grummy. You look like how a kid is supposed to look like.” You tell her, not really sure how to proceed. Ah, “Kids aren’t supposed to look perfect, you’re supposed to have fun. You’re right, those moms _are_ mean.”

Bailey stares at your hands on hers before exhaling loudly and nodding an ‘okay’.

Bucky has finally returned to his post on the counter, having a better access to observe Bailey and the pretty stranger. Sam pops out of the kitchen, the orders had finally died down enough for him to take a break. He elbows Bucky immediately as he spots the ‘fine-ass woman’ at the corner table with Bail-bunny.

“Dude, a ten is talking to your daughter. If you don’t go there right now and bag her for you and squirt, I will.” Sam threatens Bucky with a smirk when they get interrupted by the view of a very broad suit-wearing back.

“Uncle Steve!” Bailey squeals and launches herself onto the man. He catches her with one hand and settles down a laptop on the table with the other before squeezing her in an embrace.

The two men at the counter see the exchange between their best friend and you before the former signal towards the counter and setting the girl back down on her chair. You look tentatively into their direction and the men scramble to act normal, pretending that they weren’t just eyeing you. You proceed to use your laptop just as Steve approaches them.

“Hey, guys. Can I have—“ Steve’s order get interrupted by a very excited Sam Wilson.

“—How do you know corner hottie over there?” Sam squints at this friend. Bucky pretends like he’s not invested into the conversation.

“Hottie?” Steve looks back at where Sam was pointedly looking and snorts when he spots that it’s actually you. “You mean my boss?”

Both men guffaw before looking back at the table. Bailey is still asking you a million questions while you smile at her over the head of your laptop. Before either man could react, Sam was already out toward you and introducing himself, his best charming smile on display. Steve tells Bucky to head over as well after taking his order. He’ll finally introduce them.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s all family owned.” Sam smiles and nods at you while two big men approach the tiny corner table. He signals to them. “All of us own it.”

“All of you?”

“Yeah, B&W Café, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson—big font,” he points to himself and the brunette who had just picked up Bailey from her chair, cradling her. Then to your good old best man, “—Rogers, small, teeny tiny font.”

You genuinely laugh at that and introduce yourself to both of the men. Grateful to meet the owners of the wonderful café, promising that they would be seeing more of you. Then teasing how Steve practically set you up for his own benefit by recommending the café, no regret though. Steve and Sam bid goodbye before retreating to the kitchen, your friend in tow forcibly, before he mumbles something toward Bucky Barnes. Even Bailey jumps off of his arms to follow her uncles.

You signal him to take a seat as you close down your computer. With him at your eyeline, you could now clearly see his features. Long hair tied down into a bun, icy blue eyes yet warm when you look again, a strong jaw covered in fluffy beard—

“What?” you get drawn out of your observation as he says something you missed completely. Dumb brain, if this was any other circumstance you would have died from being honey potted so quickly.

“Just thank you—For Bailey, I mean. She had a rough morning I was sure was going to last the whole day.” Why does Bucky sound so sincere? You were talking to a kid. “You got her to look up from her book, so thank you.”

“No problem. I mean, yeah, I get it. Her—I get where she was coming from.” You smile back shyly, unsure where to look. Bucky, the blue-eyed tempter, then stands from the seat and tells you something about a complimentary cake. You protest but he insists so you shut up and nod.

By the time Bucky was done preparing you a slice of cake, he might have gone overboard with adding another layer of liquid chocolate and four strawberries, you were already at the counter paying while talking to Steve, his daughter in his arms and brushing your hair with her tiny hand. You take her hand and kiss it, grinning up at her like you were long time friends. Then, like your magical appearance into his café, you disappear out the front door.

Just your luck. You were about to eat a handsome man’s cake that he was going to serve you. Why did the universe think it was a good idea to summon you to the docks right now? Suddenly, you feel very stabby. Stab! Stab! Stab!

Plus the fact that you just had the most fun in a long while courtesy of a little girl who thought you were wonderful. Without having to bribe her. She said you were _nice_ and _pretty_. You remembered how her eyes sparkled as you showed her the trinkets you were wearing, like you were the most interesting thing she’s ever laid eyes on. Little Bailey did say she couldn’t wait to see you again, as she rubbed her little thumb on your face, when you told her you had somewhere else to be in a hurry. Your cheek feels warm from her touch. Now, you don’t feel stabby anymore and mentally sheath your knife.

You skid to a stop before your warehouse, not bothering to park properly. You want to get over this as soon as possible. You check your thigh holster, palming the hidden things attached to them. You know you promised that you weren’t going to shed anymore blood, not by your own hands anyway, Steve said you had people for that now but old habits die hard and having a pistol on you all the time just felt right. You exit your car and trudge into the structure, a couple of your guys escorting you to where your guest was.

This idiot looked like he owned the place, his feet propped up on the coffee table, shuffling a magazine in his hands. He spots you and immediately stands.

“Princess!” He approaches for a kiss on the cheek.

“Brock,” you hiss at him, displeasure obvious on your features. “What do you need?”

“Can’t I just see you because I want to?”

“We both know it’s never the case.” You roll your eyes and gesture him to take seat. He chuckles as he does and looks behind you. At least four of your goons were on sight but it wasn’t until Steve walked through the door that he stiffened and cleared his throat.

“Well, Princess. I know what you did last summer.” He begins, feigning an air of confidence. “And I’m willing to bury the information along with fifty percent of the profits of this warehouse, plus free passes for all the shipment that I will be having through your dock.”

You scoffed at the audacity of the man before you. That fall he took skiing last year really did a number on him. You tell him his out of his mind before signalling someone for drinks to be brought in. You really can’t engage in conversation with Brock Rumlow, professional saboteur and amateur gangster, without alcohol in your system.

“Hey listen, Princess. If it were just up to me, I wouldn’t charge you, you know. But at least three families have contacted me, asking what I know.” What an asshole. “They all want their spotlight back. I’m merely offering additional protection, baby girl.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Fine, fifteen percent of the warehouse profits and half the charge for shipment exclusively from the southern docks.”

He begins to protest but you cut him off.

“Either you accept that or I’ll open my docks to your rivals instead. Don’t push it.” With a sigh, he finally agrees, reaching out a hand to shake yours with. He then leaves, thanking you for your hospitality.

Just as Rumlow and his posse leave the area, you turn to Steve.

“I need you to look into those families he’s talking about. Either they back off or—“

“Kill them?” he raises an eyebrow and you almost retract your initial statement. But you say nothing and get into your car. Steve crouches down to your window. “I have an alternate, an updated version of your plan.”

You implore him to tell you, indignant and honestly exhausted.

“We’ll get them into your good graces, that way no more families get erased from New York. Yes?” you nodded, thanking Steve for helping you keep your promise to yourself.

You were about to speed away when he tells you to wait for a bit. He runs to his own car and produces a paper bag from the front seat. The bag had red letters on them with B&W Café written.

“Bucky was pretty bummed out when you left in a hurry, really it was my fault for not telling you sooner.” He says as he hands you the bag. You open it and you can see the outline of the promised cake in the transparent container. You smile back at Steve as he looks at you teasingly before finally speeding away.

Later that night as the crowd finally dwindled down, Bucky checks up on Bailey who had fallen asleep in his office. She’s curled up on the tiny couch, using his jacket as a makeshift blanket. He pulls the jacket further under her chin when her lashes flutter and she calls for him.

“Daddy, I’m sorry for getting into trouble today.”

“It’s okay, bunny. Just please try and not make any more kids bleed, okay?” he kneels down to her position and brushes her hair softly. He smiles at her and kisses her forehead as she replies with a quiet ‘okay’.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, bunny?”

“I like Uncle Steve’s boss, she’s so nice. And she’s pretty.”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle in agreement because she really was. He asks her for your name again and Bucky could’ve sworn it rolled perfectly off of his kid’s tongue. He then tells her to sleep more because he still had work left.

Meanwhile in upstate New York, you eye the car behind you as you drove your way home. The same car has been tailing you for the past hour since you got off your exit. You speed up more hoping to shake them off. To your surprise, another car is heading straight to you as you turn a blind curve and swerve yourself off the road onto a tree.

Four men exit the vehicle from behind, all armed. Gaining your bearings you try to start the engine but the vehicle’s front was too busted. You unbuckle your belt with a groan and grab the pistol tucked on your thigh. You pretend to be unconscious as the first goon approaches your side of the car, shooting him twice in the head as he opens your door.

You duck behind the car before taking down two more of the goons approaching from the rear. The last one was hiding behind the passenger side. You crouch down and spot his legs and aim for them. The last goon falls down on the dirt and you shoot him dead.

The car tailing you finally reaches your view and you take cover at the passenger side. Two exit the vehicle and approaches the wreck. Just as their steps were loud enough to inform you of their location, you fire at them. Cautiously, you approach the bodies, kicking away their guns before checking for any markings. Both of them sported a skull with tentacles tattoos.

“Fucking Rumlow.” You muttered as you returned to your car to look for your phone. Its rings twice before it gets picked up. “I just took out six Hydra goons near my house. I busted my ride, have someone pick me up.”

Steve sighs at the news. He was hoping for a different outcome but it seems that you weren’t just allowed to have a break.

“Work?” blue eyes look at Steve as their owner scribbles away at a binder.

“Yeah, I gotta go.” He claps a hand to a shoulder. “Thanks for dinner, Buck.”

“No, problem. Hey, uhm, can you ask her how the cake was? It—I, it was a new recipe.” Bucky asks his friend, ears turning tomato red.

Steve hums and kisses Bailey’s sleeping head before leaving through the back of the café.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bailey pulls an escape trick. Boss and Bucky talk about themselves and their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda angsty but Bailey keeps things light. Thank you to everyone who left feedback! Y'all awesomesauce.

The weekend had finally arrived but Bailey’s stint earlier in the week had left Bucky on edge. So far he had done his best to make his daughter feel like she wasn’t missing out on anything by giving her all the attention and care he could provide to make up for the fact that he was doing everything on his own. But after he learned that his little bunny was acting out in school because of comments made by her classmates, which he knows ultimately came from their own parents, he’s starting to doubt if it was actually best for him to raise her alone. Also, how fucked up is it that his kid was being bullied for not having a mom?

What the hell was he supposed to do now? Go on emergency dates and pick out a ‘best mom’ candidate for Bailey? Lord knows he’s too swamped with work to even go on dates, how was he supposed to have time to have coffee with someone and do small talk. Should he bring a potential parent questionnaire with him just so he could speed up the process?

But what he dreads most about going on dates is the awkward period where he has to temporarily conceal the fact that he had a seven-year old daughter. At which point of a dinner should he disclose this? Before dessert or after the bill gets called?

Bucky sighs as he looks at his kid in the backseat through the rear view mirror. His little girl was singing along to Hakuna Matata at the top of her lungs. He has to bring her to the café for the day, refusing to get a baby sitter and leave her at home. Would it be easier if he were still married? Guess he wouldn’t know, not for a while if not ever.

As promised, Steve got you a penthouse facing the river and featuring the Manhattan skyline across the bridge. The apartment was furnished but as your blonde buddy had figured out, you would want to pick your own bed, office chair and sofa so he tells you to head out to a furniture store near your HQ. He tells you the sooner you get to choosing, the sooner they’ll have it to the house so you can finally sleep in it. Not that you did much sleeping anyways.

You try to push down the incident from earlier this week. It took about three hours of showering to wash away the guilt of not being able to stop what you swore not to do anymore. Of course when you called Rumlow about the attack he blatantly denied any involvement and because he doesn’t even know where you live. Yeah, right. He was as much of a bad liar as he was bad at being a mobster. So you did what you thought was right, made the prick believe that you’re not going to push it more and that you look forward to future partnerships.

You pull up to an old looking furniture store with a living room set display on the window. Two of your men nod at you as you make the sidewalk and is greeted by Steve at the door. He introduces you to the owner, a greying man, probably in his 70s, who tells you that he and your grandfather used to paint the town red together in their youth. You smile at him warmly as he tells you to try anything and everything in the shop.

\---

One hour and twelve minutes; that’s how long Bailey Barnes was able to tolerate hanging around her dad’s tiny office at the café. She spent the last seven minutes dangling upside down on the office chair before she decided to take off. Of course she told Emma, the one manning the counter, that she was going for a walk. Emma was with a customer at the time so she couldn’t tell the kid no before she disappeared outside.

Bailey had been on this street a hundred times, she thinks. She knows the three nearest shops on both sides from the café but she never had the chance to explore more. She thinks she’ll be fine as long as she comes back to her dad in an hour so off she goes, heading down the street to see what good things were there. She was about had walked up and down the same twice already when she spots you across the street getting out of your car, wearing a red sun dress that flittered just above your knees. In her excitement, Bailey sprints to the nearest crosswalk up to the sidewalk were she just saw you. She spots a man who wears the same clothes as his uncle near a huge window before pressing her face on it. Inside she spots you shake an old man’s hand while you smile at them. Bailey feels her chest expand as she rushes to get inside, bumping into someone’s legs.

“Bails?” the owner of the legs asks above her head after she releases an oomf into them, making her look up.

“Uncle Stevie!” the little girl, hair disheveled, beams at the familiar face.

Before the man could even interrogate her, she pushes him aside asking about you. Her uncle chuckles at her excitement and extends his hand to lead her to you.

“Look who found us,” Steve’s voice teases from behind making you turn around with a readied frown that disappears instantly as he reveals a tiny person near his hip.

“Bailey—“ you could barely finish your greeting when a three-foot-something bundle of energy launches herself into your arms. “Hey, sweets.”

“It is you! I knew it!”

You set her down to look at her tiny face. Her hair was windswept, sweat was dripping from the sides of her face and she was flushed. You giggle at how adorable she look before pulling out a handkerchief from your bag to wipe her face. You didn’t notice but she was rambling about something the whole time you were trying to dry her.

“…and then we found a shiny pebble on the ground..” she was trying to summarize her week speedily for you apparently and you let her, nodding and giving what you thought was the appropriate reaction, “…but then Kyle fell asleep during the movie so he doesn’t know how frogs look like when wet..”

“Bails, aren’t you supposed to be at the café?” Steve’s interrupts her breaking news to you, “Does he know you’re here?”

The seven-year-old hits the breaks on her story with a very long _uhmm_ before seeking protection in the crook of your neck. You look at your right-hand man from under your lashes, pouting. He shakes his head, incredulous at the picture he sees before him.

“Could you just please call her dad and tell her she’s with me?” more pouting and puppy eyes, “She can help me pick out stuff then I’ll drop her off at the café.”

Bailey lets go of her hold on you to turn to her uncle, sporting the same pout and puppy-dog eyes. Steve knows he lost already and resigns to calling Bucky. His two bosses now skipping away to check beds in a different area of the store and he takes it as his cue to leave. He tells the two suits by the entrance to look after you both as he had other errands to run.

He calls Bucky from his car as he shifts through papers in the front seat. The line rings a couple of times before he’s answered by his best friend who seems to be out of breath.

“Dude, sorry I can’t talk right now..” Bucky says with a lot of rustling in the background. It sounds like he’s on the street. “I left Bailey in my office and now she’s _not there_ and she’s not in the café and _no one_ on this whole stupid street has seen a little girl!”

Steve tries his best to stifle a smile, he knows it’s mean but it had always brought him a little joy hearing his childhood friend panic a bit. Is it payback for all the pranks the brunette pulled on him? Definitely. He’s still not over that one time Bucky dared him to drink a litter of soda and ride a roundabout on a playground while he gets spun. He puked up a storm that day and he’s hated playgrounds ever since.

Bucky is cussing under his breath while he continues to ask people if they’ve seen his daughter, going in and out of all the shops he passes. Steve finally took pity on him.

“Buddy, relax! I know where Bailey is, I just saw her.”

“What?! Where?”

“She’s with Boss. Spotted her at old Jenkin’s furniture store and chased her down. She’s fine.” Steve Rogers, mostly reasonable but more often, and this is according to one James Barnes, a colossal jerk. “She’ll drive her back, just helping her get some stuff.”

Bucky finally stops his milling about and lets out a long breath he was consciously holding. He was on the verge of tears already and his best friend decided to delay telling him what he knew.

“God, I hate you sometimes,” he mutters to the receiver and hangs up. Stomping back up the street towards his store.

He storms back in through the front door and is greeted by his equally frantic staff. He explains to them what Steve told him and makes his way to his office. He needs to lie down for at least thirty minutes.

His daughter on the other hand was having the time of her life. She’s testing out beds for her new found friend by jumping up and down on the mattress, clad only in her socks. Her shoes are being held by you for safekeeping, seated at the foot of the bed.

“Aren’t you going to jump with me?” she asks, her hair bouncing up and down, not a care in the world.

Your bodyguards exchange a look between them before shifting their eyes away. You spot them holding back a smirk and shake your head.

“Not this time, Bails. I’ll just lie down.” You answer her and lie on the side she’s not jumping on. You bounce a couple of times, in time to her rhythm before it settles down as she plops beside you. You turn to your side and boop her nose causing her to giggle.

“I think this bed is good.” She pants and you swipe her hair away from her face.

You agree with her and tell a store employee. You then proceed to looking for couches for your home office. Bailey tested a couple out, ranking them by their bounciness, bigness and her ability to lie upside down comfortable. She decided on getting you a big green sofa that could double down as a day bed.

You were exploring a shelf of lamps near the counter as Bailey gets lots in a pile of plushies displayed. She screams in delight when she finds something and calls you over.

“Look! It’s me and daddy!” her laughter echoes throughout the store as she presents you with a rabbit plush and a raccoon plush. “I’ll buy these for you so you can sleep safe in your new bed.”

“I get you’re as cute as this bunny but why this for your dad?” you ask as she hands you the raccoon.

“He has dark circles around his eyes too,” she teases her own father as she places the bunny on the counter. You chuckle at her crassness towards him and ask her to come with you to the lamps on display.

“You see that lamp? When you turn it on you can have stars inside your room.” You explain and a store staff turns on the lamp as if on cue and you watch as the little girl’s eyes widen as the lamp produces shadows of falling stars in the nearby wall. “I’ll give it you as a thank you for being a big help to me today.”

Bailey’s wraps her arms around your waist as she repeats a series of thank you’s muffled into your dress. You caress her hair, tell her it’s no problem and kiss the top of her head.

A couple of hours later, the two of you enter the café hand in hand. Bucky basically jumps over the counter as he sees his daughter walk in. She now had her hair braided into two parts and he remembers he definitely did not do that this morning. He looks at you and you smile at him sheepishly.

“Bailey Barnes, you can’t just leave the shop without telling me,” he kneels before his little girl, drained out of his wits but manages to still be gentle with her, “I was worried sick, doll.”

Bailey looks at you and you nod at her encouragingly. Bucky does not fail to see the exchange.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I won’t do it again.” She then kisses his cheek and clings to her old man. James Buchannan Barnes does not have a weak resolve, Bailey Rebecca Barnes just knows how to push the right buttons on him. Who was he kidding? He forgave her the moment she walked into the store.

You spend the rest of the day in the café offering to help out as you had nothing else planned for Saturday. You tried to wait on a few tables, getting orders and passing them out to the counter but when the crowd picked up, you volunteered to serve the food too. Bailey insisted that you could be paid with her dad’s cookies and her dad agreed even if he hadn’t made any cookies for that day. So he did what any other reasonable person would do, he made cookies from scratch even if he didn’t have to. But he’s not telling you that. Not with you looking like the freshest rose in a bouquet, with your red dress swaying perfectly around your hips as you moved around and your bare shoulders glistened in the yellow light.

He was only pulled out of his reverie when his daughter called out to him to show off the necklace you’d given her earlier. It was the same one she’d told you she loved. It had a gold chain and single pendant of a tiny red flower in cased in a crystal. Bucky checks your neck and the small dip that lead to your chest, he finds it empty leading him to conclude that you’ve given that same necklace off of your own neck. You look up at him and catch his eyes with yours, smiling and waving a little. Bucky finds himself doing the same.

The day had dwindled down and now you find yourself eating a free dinner in Bucky’s office. His table was cleared up and the both of you ate facing each other. Bailey is knocked out on the couch, mouth open and limbs sprawled out. You snort at how peaceful she looks while asleep.

“I’m sorry for borrowing her without your permission,” you begin, finally breaking minutes of silence between you. “Your daughter is just an incredible ray of sunshine and I—she’s just incredibly lovely.”

Bucky looks at his daughter too, nodding, “Yeah, I love her but the only time I’m ever relaxed around her is when she’s asleep.”

You giggle at that and Bucky can’t help but look directly at you. You were sitting so close he could even smell your perfume something akin to vanilla and something fruity.

“If I pushed through with getting married right out of college, I would have had a kid as big as her by now,” you say now looking wistfully at the child before looking back at the man before you.

“Oh?” he swallows, wanting to know more about you. “What happened?”

“Well, the guy’s parents disapproved of me. They said that their son could not possibly marry someone whose parents did not even want,” you reminisce, pushing the food around on your plate, “I was raised by my grandfather, you see. My parents left me with him and never returned. In the end, the guy chose someone who his parents chose for him.”

“Did you regret not being married to him?” Bucky places a hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb lightly.

“No! God, no. If someone changes his mind about me so easily just because he was told to, I wouldn’t have been happy in that marriage anyway. I’m a loyal person and I expect loyalty in return.” You smile as you put down your plate on the table. Bucky chuckles at your reaction.

“Well, speaking of loyalty, Bailey’s mom walked out on us.” Bucky confesses. “She—she, uhm, said she couldn’t take care of a child and a broken soldier. Bailey was barely two years old then and I just retired from service.”

You take his hand from your knee and wrap them in yours. You weren’t expecting an explanation from him about his and his daughter’s background.

“The whole thing was rough. It took Steve and Sam to pull me out of my own ass and just be present. They helped me realize that there was no use wishing or looking back. I just don’t know how to tell Bails that her mom did not want to have to deal with us anymore.”

Your heart is clenching as Bucky releases those words. You wanted to give him some sort of comfort that he could pass on to Bailey but you couldn’t because you knew deep down that even you yourself never got a reason from your own parents why they did not want you. So you tell him what you know,

“At first I thought I could live by my grandfather’s rules, you know? He said that family made you weak. But as I grew older I learned he was wrong. We’re fortunate enough to get to choose who we call family, people who make us feel loved and safe.” You encourage Bucky, looking into his eyes. “Tell her that despite not having her mom, she has more than enough people in her life that would do anything because they love her and want her safe and happy.”

The night ends well after your talk with Bucky. You bid them goodbye as he deposits a still sleeping Bailey in the backseat. Your words keep repeating in his head even when he gets ready for bed. He checks on his daughter before he finally turns for the night when he hears your name being whispered from her bedroom.

“Please make her like me so she can be my mommy…” Bailey wishes as her lamp emits falling stars in her bedroom. “…I promise to be good.”

On another side of the borough, you’re lying down in your new bed as you talk to your number one about updates on your operation. But you’re barely listening to Steve as he explains several complications due to Rumlow’s pestilence, head somewhere else with images of Bailey laughing freely.

“Steve?” he hums a yes, “After we clean up this mess, I was thinking, maybe it’s time for me to just settle down completely. Because as far as I can tell, if I don’t back away, there’s still going to be blood in my hands and I’m scared it’s never going to stop.”

He sighs at the other end of the call and you can just tell he’s rubbing his face with his free hand.

“I could just retire and leave everything to you, I mean you’re the one who’s basically running everything anyway.” You tease him but he knows you’re dead serious.

“Listen, I know this has something to do with the Barnes’s and I get it. They’re my family and I know how easy it is to love them.” He tries to reason out with you, “But you can’t be sappy and stupid on me, okay? You can pick either but not both.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you if I change my mind on Monday. Good night.”

“Good night, Boss.”

You deposit your phone on the night stand and turn to your side, propping the bunny plush near your headboard while you hug the raccoon and finally drift off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bailey has an emergency; Bucky plans a date night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mob violence, moody toddlers, & kissing

Two months; that’s how long the peace lasted. For two months you were actually starting to feel like a normal person (your definition of normal, anyways), attending business meetings, shaking people’s hands, cutting ribbons for business and charity openings. Plus maybe you were hanging out at a café and were getting very comfortable with the owner, even moonlighting as a baby sitter every now and then. Everything was good—until tonight.

You were sitting at a secret poker game when it went downhill after you won seven consecutive hands. Your pile was starting to grow along with the tension on the table’s felt surface. The four other men surrounding you were starting to tick so loud you could count down the exact time they were going to blow. When you saw a sliver of metal from the corner of your eye, you pulled out your trusty gun and aimed true.

Bang! Joe Prescott falls backward from his seat with a whole in the middle of his forehead with his hand halfway out of his holster. Bang! Bang! Two to Elliot McGowell’s chest and he slumps across you. You swipe the chair to your right, straddling Big Eddie Thames on his shoulders before pressing the nozzle to his neck and squeezing the trigger. You roll and flip the table for cover, ducking as a bullets whiz past you and hit the wall behind. You lie on your right side and aim for your next target, Bryan Zimmerman, who has been eyeing you like a piece of meat the whole fucking night. But he spots you first and kicks the gun out of your hand, diving to your spot on the floor to choke the life out of you.

“Die you fucking bitch!” he hisses through his teeth as his hands squeeze your throat with all his might. You scratch at his arms and reach for eyes but he’s too big to even be bothered.

You were starting to feel light headed when you finally remembered the knife tucked on your thigh. You pull it out and stick it into the slot beneath his right armpit, twisting it then yanking it out. you scramble to your knees as the tries to control the gushing from his side. You spot your gun and crawl to it, picking it up and aiming for Bryan’s head without even looking. Bang! Bang! Bang!

You pant as you look around you, smiling when you see a cigarette case on the floor. You light one up, take a long, deep drag before pushing yourself off the floor to push a button underneath the toppled table. You lean on it and wait.

“Jesus Christ—“ Steve cries as he enters the door, spotting you among the dead bodies.

“Where the fuck have you been?! I was dying here!” you yell at him, just as your other guys rush inside the room. You eye them and nod at Steve who then nods to them again. Seconds later, you hear gun fire echo all around the warehouse. No loose ends.

Your blonde muscle man helps you up to your feet, observes the reddening area around your neck. He tries to look for any other possible injuries but he finds that aside from your neck, and a couple of drying droplets of blood on your cheek and little splatters on your right arm, not a single hair was out of place. The high ponytail you decided to don for the evening was still perfectly sitting on your head. Your sparkly dress, with the too high leg slit and single shoulder asymmetrical sleeve was also miraculously blood free. With a shake of his head and a short lecture about knowing when to call for help (to which you rebut that you actually did call for help but he says that’s beside the point), Steve helps you move to the office upstairs.

Speaking of calling for help, a certain Bucky Barnes is about to call child protective services on his own child so they can take him away and protect him from her. He’s been struggling with her for two days now, her moodiness coming in like tidal waves and he’s about to drown. She kept pushing her food around during dinner, head placed on her palm with her elbow on the table. He had to chase her around for almost thirty minutes just so he can place her in the bathtub to get her ready for bed. When he finally managed to put her in pj’s she decided that it was a good idea to wail on top her lungs while she lied down on the floor.

Bucky rubs his face, he didn’t even do anything to her. A couple of deep breaths later, he asks his daughter what she wants him to do just so she’d go to bed. The answer she gives him makes him choke: she wants him to call you! Right now!

“What?!”

“I want you to call her. I need to talk to her.” Bailey says in between hiccups. When she sees her dad unmoving, she goes back to crying like an animal getting skinned.

He feels set up because one, why is his own flesh and blood doing this to him; two, does his kid actually know that he’s been talking to you on the phone?; and three, he couldn’t bring himself to bother you just because he’s about to roll on the floor and cry himself with his own daughter. But since Bailey looks like a human beet by now, he swallows whatever pride he has left and dials your contact.

Back in the upstairs office away from the scene of a slaughter, you lie inclined on the couch, tossing back your third (five and a half shots for a normal person) glass of tequila with your Jimmy Choo clad feet propped up on the coffee table. You wipe your arms with a moist towel while Steve is still on a lecture about safety, common sense and self preservation.

Steve’s lecture gets cut when your phone on the table before him vibrates and lights up with a picture of his best friend’s face being squished by his laughing niece. Curiously, he answers the call.

“How you doin’, Buck?”

“Ste—Steve! Hey!” Bucky almost chokes, not expecting his best friend to be the one receiving the call. He gathers his wits and asks for you.

You’re already sitting straight the moment you heard Bucky’s name, a flush starting to crawl its way up from your neck to your ears.

“Yeah, she’s here, hold on..” your trusty sidekick says before he muffles the phone’s mic and quips, “I can’t believe you’re accepting booty calls from a guy named ‘ _Bucket’_ , Boss.”

This time you spring up from the couch and jump over the coffee table to snatch the phone away him. You smack him on the back of the head before taking the call. You greet Bucky, your voice sounding different than the way you just talked to Steve. Your “booty call” however starts to apologize and explain that it was in fact Bailey who wanted to call. You tell him it’s fine and he hands off the phone to his kid who miraculously had stopped crying.

You signal Steve to follow you downstairs into the parking area, your ear still on the phone. You instruct him to drive you to the Barnes’s while he scrambles to find something, anything to cover you up with.

Forty minutes later, the car slows down in front of a cute little town house. Steve points to a door and you make your way out of the car. You’re already halfway up the steps when you turn back and knock on the passenger seat’s window.

“How do I look?” you sheepishly ask the man who just drove you unquestioningly as he rolls down the window.

“I thought you were here for Bailey? Why are you worried about how you look?” he sasses back making you flush again.

“Never mind then!”

“You look hot, Boss!”

You flip him off as you run back to the door and press the buzzer. You try and fix Steve’s suit jacket over yourself shifting your weight from one foot to another. A shuffling on the other side can be heard before Bucky opens the door with a whoosh~

You exchange quieted ‘hey’s” before he leads you inside and tells you where Bailey is. He offers to take your jacket and his jaw immediately drops at your image as you shrug the jacket off. This is the most skin he has ever seen on you from the moment he met you. He’s not complaining but there’s a little tent in his pants that’s starting to grow. He uses your own jacket to hide the enlarging situation as he leads you to Bailey’s room. The little bunny hops into your arms the moment you peek your head through her door and Bucky decides to give both of you some privacy (because he’s nice not because he has inappropriate bodily reactions).

About an hour or so later, you finally emerge downstairs and call out for Bucky. He beckons you from the kitchen and he sees you tiptoeing towards him, your heels on your hands. He taps the seat next to him on the counter and you take it, facing him.

“Hey…” you smile as you sit down.

“Hey, yourself.” He says sliding you a cup of coffee. “Sorry about calling you. I didn’t even know she would ask you to come see her this late.”

“It’s no problem. She sounded _really_ distressed, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I didn’t check on her in person.”

You sip on your coffee and look at Bucky through your lashes. It was a bad idea to ask you to sit on a high chair because the slit on your thigh is causing his pants to tighten again. His eyes roam your body discreetly, he thinks, but you catch on and cross your legs to keep his attention.

“Anyways, Buck, she told me why she was so upset. It has something to do with school…” you continue after clearing your throat. “They’re having a Parents’ Day event and someone in her class has been taunting her again.”

“Oh, shit. I knew this would happen!” he sighs dejectedly, leaning on the counter with his elbows and hands hiding his face. “I don’t get why these moms keep talking about me being a solo parent. It’s not like I chose—“

“I’ll go with you!” you blurt out too loud and too quick. Sheesh, maybe those drinks you had kicked in late because why the fuck did you just say that! “I mean—I’ll _accompany_ the both of you, you know, _for the day._ Just so the gossip crowd can have someone else to talk about beside our— _your_ kid!”

Oh, he definitely heard the possessive word. He doesn’t mind, not with you cutely trying to hide your slip up and _definitely_ not with your hand on his thigh right now.

“Babe, you don’t have to. We’ll be fine. I don’t want to impose this whole—“ Oh, you heard him clear as day. He called you _babe_ , the sly raccoon.

“—I want to. It’ll be fun. Plus, if you finally take me out to dinner before the school day then we can just hash everything out afterwards. Me and you and being together and all.” With that you squeeze your hand more on his thigh and lean toward him more.

“ _Fine._ I’ll take you to dinner and spoil you rotten. Just like you spoil my kid rotten.” He chuckles as he stands up and hugs you tightly. Really it was just an excuse to hold you while you looked like _that._

_\---_

The next couple of days were spent by Bucky trying to book a fancy restaurant in Manhattan. When none of them had anything available on your agreed date, he tried for restaurants around Brooklyn. But alas! Nothing was available and Bucky curses himself because he really needs to go all out on you.

Sam catches his scowl and finally decides to help him out.

“So, heard you’re taking Boss Hottie out to dinner. Finally!”

“What? Where’d you hear that?”

“Steve. Says she’s been fast tracking all her transactions for the week so she won’t get interrupted during your little date.” Sam teases him, pumping his eyebrows up goofily. “So, where are you taking her?”

“Nowhere! All the damn restaurants are fully booked!” he sighs, he really needs to make a good impression on you.

“Man, you don’t need to impress her with a fancy dinner. She already knows how cheap you are—“ he explains and waves around the café. That earns him a shove from his friend but he continues, “Just cook for her at home. Make it low key, and maybe, just maybe, after dinner ya’ll can head upstairs to you room and—“

Bucky smacks him upside the head before he could finish the sentence. But the man had a point. There was no need to impress you. That settles it then, he was going to woo you with a proper home cooked meal.

\---

Saturday night arrived way too fast. Bucky dropped Bailey off at the café earlier in the afternoon under Sam’s care. He was on strict orders not to let her out of his sight because how the night would turn out depended heavily on having to have a search party out again for his slippery daughter.

Bucky had hopped out the shower, dressed in a dark green button up and dark slacks that fitted him greatly. He was putting up finishing touches to his set up in the kitchen, lighting up all the candles he found at home. He passed by the mirror and saw he was still wearing his socks. Shoot! Was he supposed to wear shoes in the house? Of course, right? It is a date after all, you can’t be barefoot on a date! But also, he’s at home! Why would he wear shoes—

His inner shoe turmoil gets interrupted with the sound of the buzzer. The clock on the wall near the door reads 6:30. You’re here! He exhales loudly behind the door and pats himself down for invisible dust and finally opens the door.

You beam at him the moment your eyes meet. He gapes as he takes you in, you’re wearing an off-shoulder black velvet dress that stops right above your thighs, your skin glowing even under a Brooklyn streetlight. Bucky forgets to breathe, not because you’ve dressed like a concoction of all his sinful thoughts of you but because you’re looking at him like he was Christmas morning.

“Aren’t you gonna invite me in?” you’re voice grounds him from his thoughts and he side-steps to let you in. You hand him a bottle of wine and proceed to kiss him on the cheek. Good thing that you did because he’s a total statue right now, his mind foggy on how he’d manage you to agree to go out with him.

He waves his left hand with the wine toward the kitchen and places his right on the small of your back. You cherish the little warmth his hand gives out and you wish for more. Maybe later after the illusion of formalities of dates are out of the way. The whole world probably knows by now how you’re head over heels for the man next to you and with your knack for reading people after years of doing grimy work, you’re pretty sure Bucky’s body language indicates that he likes you too.

Meanwhile in downtown Brooklyn, the kitchen over at B&W Café is bustling. The music was booming over a Bluetooth speaker on a shelf and the staff were gathering around for a bit to make a small toast. Sam had passed on information to others that their other employer was on a hot date with the rich lady who lingers in the café. Of course by now, everyone already knew who you were and what you were to the Barnes’s but Sam couldn’t just help but tease.

However, the little Barnes girl who was peacefully playing on her Uncle’s phone had perked up upon hearing your name. By the time she was done eavesdropping she’d figured out that you were actually at her house having dinner with her dad. Why wasn’t she invited?

“Uncle Sam? I wanna go home now please.” She calls to her uncle who was leading a gossip parade.

“We can’t go home yet, Bunny. The shop is still open.” He calls out, not leaving his spot. “Plus we’re have Saturday sleepover, remember?”

Yikes. She has to step her game up. She sucks in air as much as she can before she screams out bloody murder. That made everyone in the kitchen jump to their feet and check on her. Next, Bailey clutches her stomach and doubles over like she was in pain.

“What’s wrong Bails?” a chorus of voices asks her.

“My tumtum hurts! Please I wanna go home.” She cries out, eyes closed. “I want my daddy!”

When Sam offers all that he could to make her feel better, Bailey starts the waterworks. Should he bring her to the hospital? No! The kid wails and repeats that she wants her dad. So Sam Wilson, former air force pilot trained for highly stressful situations, did what he thought was best for an ailing seven-year-old: he rushed her back home.

Dinner hadn’t even started yet back at the house. You were fawning over the photos on the shelf and you ended up looking through photo albums that Bucky had kept. He had one filled with Bailey’s baby photos and you kept cooing at them as you sat delicately on the floor with your legs to the side. You move on to the next photo album and squeal in delight as soon as you saw the first photo. Bucky sits beside you with a glass of wine and you take it from him to drink.

“Look at you and Steve looking like the poster kids for being All-American Boys!” you tease, over an old college photo of theirs. Bucky smiles with all his teeth, as did a blonder Steve.

“That was before we went to the military, our souls were still intact.” He chuckles and deposits his chin on your shoulder.

“Well, I could offer up my soul in exchange for yours but mine’s pretty tattered too.” You continue to flip through the album and smile at him. He mirrors it, corner of his eyes crinkling. “You don’t mind a tattered soul, do you?”

“Not at all. I’d say it would fit with mine perfectly.”

He scoots closer to you as you point at some of the photos you see and he explains them. His right hand had somehow managed to snake its way around your waist while he looks at the photos over your shoulder, the other hand was resting on your knee. Every time you or him laugh at something, you could feel his chest pressed against your back as it moves. Then, a small squeeze to your waist has finally broken the dam of your self control because you’re now twisting your head to face him, eyes darting down to his lips. He does the same and you lick your lips unconsciously in anticipation.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks for permission.

“Yes, please.” You consent.

But just as your lips touch, the front door bursts open and a shrill voice screams “daddy!” with enough power to pull the both of you apart. Little feet patter on the wooden floor before they dive to where you were seated.

Bailey clings to her dad’s side while Sam follows with an apologetic look on his face.

“She said her tummy hurt and kept asking for you, man. Didn’t know what else to do.”

You swipe her hair off her face as her dad asks her how she’s feeling but she just shifts her attention to you and climbs on your lap, placing her head on your chest.

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll take it from here.” Bucky says as he leaves his spot to walk his friend to the door. The latter waves at you and you wave back, slightly swaying side to side to comfort the little bunny who was eerily quiet.

“Man, I’m really sorry. She looks great, damn. Tonight woulda been the night, huh?” Sam whispers as they reach the door. Bucky couldn’t even get mad at the whole thing so he just passive-aggressively shoves his best friend out the door with a huff.

Bucky almost wants to stomp his foot as he comes back to the living room. You’re now on the couch being straddled by his baby girl when he was this close to being straddled by you. Bailey is mumbling into your chest all the things she ate during the day, trying to get to the bottom of why her stomach was acting up.

“Maybe you’re just hungry, peanut?” you pull back a bit from her to see her face. “It sounds like you need proper food.”

Bailey squeezes herself into you as she tries to nod meekly. You look at her dad who was standing, hands on his hips, looking like a whole meal with his fluffy hair and his fluffy beard. You were completely willing to forgo dinner and do something else with him but the situation before you was now a code red priority.

And that’s how you and Bucky ended up having a dinner date with a child on your lap. Bucky had blown out all the candles in the kitchen after his darling daughter inquired why there was so many of them. He eyes her suspiciously now as she chews the garlic bread he’d made for you, chasing it down with milk.

You catch him eyeing Bailey, feeling his suspicion against his offspring so you feed him a forkful of risotto to ease the tension. He happily obliges and you pat the side of his face, sighing at the thought of how you instantly became a guardian for two babies.

By the time dinner was finished and the food had disappeared, Bailey managed to sit on a separate chair across you while Bucky had scooted himself nearer to you, thighs touching and his arm on top of your backrest. His thumb was tapping lightly on your shoulder while your thumb was drawing circles on his knee. Every time Bailey says anything remotely funny or confusing, he buries his face on the nook of your neck and blows air on it lightly drawing goose bumps all over your skin. This does still feel like a date after all.

“She’s finally down,” you tell Bucky as you snake your arms around his waist while he stood before the sink. The night had drawn to a close and so has your plot twist of a date. “She offered me her pajamas so I could stay the night.”

“Will you?” he asks, hopeful, more than hopeful actually, as he wipes his hands dry and turn around to wrap you in his arms, “Stay the night?”

You look up and grin at him dopily, swaying slightly to an unheard melody only the two of you seem to hear. “As much as I would love to, I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Shouldn’t.”

“What if I beg real nice?” he tries, his arms around you wrap themselves tighter. “Or pretend to have a tummy ache?”

“You caught on that too, huh?” both of you chuckle. “She’s a smart kid.”

“She’s trouble.” He says with a glint in his eyes. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you changed your mind about the parents’ day thing.”

“Hey, I told you that this date would sort out where you and I stand,” you give him a soft peck on the lips, “And after careful deliberation—“

He hums and gives you a soft peck in return.

“—I would love to be there for Bailey. And for you.” You smile before placing your head on his broad chest. Bucky feels elated. He hasn’t felt this happy or secure in forever. He kisses the top of your head, breathing in your scent.

“So does this mean you’re staying the night?” he tries again and you vibrate under his form as you let out a hearty laugh. God, he could get used to the sound of you.

“Nice try Barnes. This is only the first date and you’re immediately trying to get into my shorts?” he shrugs but you know he’s sincere. You give him one more quick kiss before pulling away. “I would _love_ to, but I deliberately scheduled a breakfast meeting tomorrow with some clients as a safety net.”

And that’s how your first date ended. With him walking you to your car because you looked too damn good to be shooed out of his door. He opens the door for you as you gracefully slide in on the low seat. You wave at him one last time before speeding away. Bucky exhales a _holy shit,_ because how the fuck did he get so lucky with getting a date who was kind to his little trouble maker of a daughter and into him at the same time.

As Bucky heads back in with a lighter step and a full heart, he ignores the ominous presence of men lingering across the street and shuts the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally Parent/s' Day at the elementary school! There's a storm brewing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: this chapter has violence, and crying children and adults.

Dang it!

Was what you first thought when you slowly pulled into Bailey’s school parking lot. You were currently surrounded by parents pulling up in various minivans and sedans, your blue Chiron is standing out like a healing hickey. Your hands are shaking on the steering wheel as you maneuver into a free space you see. You take a couple of minutes to yourself, gathering composure in the driver’s seat as you twiddle with your clothes and calling out to whatever greater power there is out there to help you get through the day when a tap to your window startles you.

“Bucky! Hey–” you smile at him as you roll down your window.

“Hey, you okay?” He beams at you as he crouches down to get into your view. “You’ve been sitting there for a while.”

“Oh- yeah, I’m great. Just- nervous, I guess.” You tell him, perching your chin over the open window.

Bucky chuckles and gives you a small peck before standing back to his full height and opening your door. You exhale as you push yourself out, taking his offered hand. Bucky stutters a little when he sees you out in the sunshine, the orange silk wrap dress looked perfect on you looking like an embodiment of a summer daydream. You catch the slow once over he gives you and panic immediately rises in your throat.

“Oh my god! Am I inappropriately dressed?!” You yell out and make to escape back inside the car but Bucky catches your wrist before you do.

“No! You look great, doll.” He laughs, thinking just how cute you are looking all flushed. “Bailey’s going to love seeing you, whatever you wear.”

Any prior nervousness was now replaced with a sparkle in your eyes as you walk inside together. You’re carrying boxes of desserts that Bucky had prepared for Bailey’s class, not aware that parents usually bring food into the school to share with everyone. So while he was busy gathering the boxes to be carried out, you shot a panicked text to Steve about renting an ince cream truck to be sent to the school. Bucky had disappeared inside a classroom ahead of you while you halted before the door not understanding why you were nervous. You just wanted to do well today, it shouldn’t be that hard right? Your inner monologue gets interrupted with Bucky signaling you to follow him in, you smile back and walk into a classroom filled with kids and parents alike, chairs arranged near the walls decorated with artworks and crafts, and a long table on he far side of the room filled with various food. A shriek of your name makes you look down at your waist as your favorite bunny finally makes her appearance.

“You made it! You’re here!” She hops excitedly as you put down the boxes and take her into your arms.

“I’m here too, you know.” Bucky comments behind you, hurt that his daughter always forgets about him whenever you were in sight.

“Hi, daddy!” Bailey smirks at her father belatedly for a second before drawing your attention again, “You have to meet Shelly!”

The energy bunny jumps down from your arms and drags you to an aquarium in the back of the classroom where their class turtle lived. She’s introducing you to everything in her little world, Bucky left forgotten. But he doesn’t mind one bit, at least his little bundle of trouble is now back to her old self.

Later in the day as the activities transferred outdoors, you found yourself talking more to other mothers, politicking, lobbying, sucking-up, whatever one may call it for Bailey’s benefit. Women, despite being the most advanced creatures to ever walk the earth, are quite easy to manage especially when you knew their weaknesses. Did you really have to dig information on the mother’s of your baby’s class just so you could bribe them into talking less shit about her situation? Absolutely. You got all the mean moms a free spa day and a table at Marquis’ on a Saturday where they could brunch with New York’s top upper east siders. You also planned to send them a limited edition handbag each, one more valuable than the other so as to incite jealousy among them. Bucky doesn’t have to know any of this.

A teacher announces that the sports events will begin shortly and Bailey runs over to the registration table to sign up. You spot Bucky talking to some dads and wave at him meekly. God, he looks so good just even standing there, hair fluffy, tight shirt, dark pants that suited him well; he was your kind of wet dream. Looking around the benches you observe that a couple of mothers agree with you, catching them looking as well. You chortle when they catch you catching them and try to brush it off by looking away awkwardly. You’ve never been one to feel possessiveness over a man but somehow, this is starting to get on your nerves a bit.

“Here!” Bailey skips back to you with a ribbon in her hand. You take it from her and see MOM printed on it. “Ms. Stefanie said we can play together as a family.”

A swelling sensation in your chest appears right as those words leave this child’s mouth. You’re pretty sure it could be signs of a stroke but you know it’s just your heart trying to grow a size or two. As another announcement echoes through the speakers, Bucky approaches both his girls and takes the ribbon handed to him.

“Well, look at you being my daughter’s mom.” He sees your tears being held at bay and initiates to pin the mom ribbon on your dress with a wink. You playfully slap his arm and wipe a stray tear.

“Ha ha! Very funny, Mr. Barnes” you say, taking his own ribbon and pinning it to his shirt. But then a thought enters your mind and a frown forms in your face. “Oh, god. Are you even okay with this? I don’t mean to pressure you or anything! I mean, we just started dating and I really like you—I don’t want to-”

“Honey? Breathe…” he interjects before you blow a circuit from your ramblings. “I really like you, too. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay? But right now, I really want to win that dumb trophy.”

You gulp down your worries as Bucky cups your face with both his hands. You’re staring directly into his eyes, no pretenses in sight, only a glimmer of determination. You nod a confirmation as he lets you go, looking down at a Bailey who was struggling to pin her own ribbon. You kneel before her and fix it her then retying her shoelaces that have come undone.

“Let’s do this!” You tell her excitedly and she pumps a tiny fist in the air.

Three hours later, the three of you are sitting on the front steps of the school beside your shiny plastic trophy. Apparently all the running from and into danger you’ve been doing these years made you pretty agile, thus gaining the winning points from the Mom’s 100-meter dash, which you did in a flare dress and barefooted by the way. You’re now enjoying sharing a soft served ice cream from the truck Steve had sent. Of course when you told Bailey it was you who sent for it, she announced it to the whole class so now as kids and parents bid their goodbyes to go home, tiny humans would come up to you for thanks.

“Thank you for the ice cream, Mrs. Barnes!” Another freckled kid says, stained with the melted dessert, as his own parents smile and wave. Every time a kid says that, your heart skips a beat and avoid looking at Bucky. Bailey on the other hand is simmering in the attention.

“Isn’t my mom great?!” She boasts as kids walk past her.

“Come on, we should be going home, too.” Bucky pats his pants as he stands up, pulling his kid along before offering you a hand. You’re face looks like it’s been cooking in embarrassment for a while so he finally takes pity on you and offers an embrace. Only to tease you more, “Thank you for the trophy and the ice cream, Bailey’s mom.” You could’ve sworn your soul entered another astral plane.

\---

Feeling like you didn’t want the day to end, you offered that the three of you could hang out at your house this time, have dinner and maybe a movie afterwards. Bailey, ever the bravest, asked if they could stay overnight since tomorrow was going to be the weekend. You would have right out agreed but only deferred the decision to Bucky, not wanting to overstep your role. It surprised you that it didn’t take him much convincing to agree.

And that’s how you ended up in the passenger seat of the Barnes’s car, Bailey singing at the backseat and Bucky driving. Your car was tailing you back home, two of your men looking after it. The car halts in your building’s underground parking space and the three of you cross the space to the elevators hand in hand. You nod to your men who exit your car and acknowledge the other two standing near the elevator.

Bailey was talking animatedly about the movies she wanted to see while Bucky was wary about the amount of security you had. He knew that you were rich and important but the holsters on your team made him nervous for some reason. The caliber was too big for city security, makes him think that you must be more of a big deal than he knows.

As you near the entrance to the lifts, the hairs on the back of your neck raise making you duck just as one of your men’s brain colors the building’s wall. You push Bucky, who’s covering Bailey with his body as soon as your man goes down, into the car beside him while you duck behind another. A rattle of gun fire reverberates the basement parking along with the sound of glass breaking and metal being pierced by ammunition. Bailey is screaming her tiny lungs, Bucky’s eyes finds yours, fear etched in both your irises.

“Steve, we’re under attack! Need assistance— underground parking, now!” You yell into your phone before inserting it to the space in your chest and retrieving the gun from your thigh. You address Bucky this time, “Stay down! Stay the fuck down!”

The hail of gun fire doesn’t stop and you scramble for footing, your heels tossed to the side as you crawl to your left. You take a peek from the hood of the car and spot four gunmen in the far side. You cock your gun and start shooting blindly, luck favoring you as you take one man down. The gun fire redirects to where you’re hiding out now, Bucky witnessing it all as he keeps his daughter safe. His ears are ringing with panic he hasn’t felt since he’s been in service.

“Bucky! Stay low!” You remind him again when you see him sit up. “I’ll get you and Bailey to safety!”

As soon as the shooting stops, a small window for a reload, you signal your two remaining men huddled about thirty feet from you and the three of you return the fire, dropping the assailants where they stand. You huff out the hairs that are now wipping your face, misplaced by the action and dash to where the Barnes’s were hiding. Bucky flinches when you touch his shoulder.

“It- It’s just me!” You pull back your hand from the man, “we have to go… They’ll send more soon.”

Bucky nods and releases his form from a crying Bailey who’s clinging to her dad. You give him an apologetic look but your phone rings before you could speak out an apology.

“Yeah, we’re okay. They’re okay.” You eye Bucky who has been quiet so far, as you usher them to the elevators, glass crunching under your bare feet. “Santos and Hicks are still up, they’ll be on lookout. We’re headed up.”

You punch the P on the button along with your code and the lift whirs, elevator music mixing with Bailey’s sniffling and Bucky’s cooing. You felt terrible because you couldn’t even comfort her when you’re clearly at fault for bringing your mess into their lives. When the lift opens to your floor, you guide Bucky to a spare room upstairs to get himself and your scared bunny cleaned up.

“Buck, I-”

“—We’ll talk later.” He shushes you, his hand running up and down Bailey’s back. She was shivering, the poor angel. So you nod, guilt filling you up and the door closes to shut you out. You run a hand in your face and head to your own room.

An hour later, Bucky finds you in the kitchen talking to Steve in hushed anger. Both of you stop as soon as he comes into view. You’re wearing grey sweats, hair still wet and face scraped, looking too guilty of what had just occurred that you couldn’t even maintain eye contact. Steve on the other hand has moved to hug his best friend.

“You got some explaining to do, punk.” He tells the blonde as he pats his back.

“Yeah, I know. Why don’t you take a seat, Buck.” Steve gestures to the counter stool and you slide him a mug of tea.

“How’s Bailey?” You ask, voice breaking.

“Asleep. She’s shaken up… but she’ll be fine.” He takes a sip. “She was asking if you were alright.”

Your eyes widen at the sentiment but swallow whatever you wanted to say, another apology most likely because there are more pressing matters so you only answer with a nod.

“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious by now that my job isn’t just a business woman.” You begin, looking at your blonde friend for encouragement.

“I mean, yeah, I do business but not everything is legal.” Bucky scoffs. Steve coughs into his hand. You freeze, brain functioning decreasing.

“That should have been obvious, I got paid too well.” Steve tries to contribute and you glare at him.

“Wait, no—hold up. You’re not going to tell me that you guys are doing mob shit, are you?” The brunette says to ease the tension but neither of you answer.

“Holy shit!” Bucky gapes and you could only wring your wrists. This might just be the first time you’re ashamed of what you do for a living. He stands up from where he sits and starts pacing the floor, hand in his hair.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was important.” You try to explain and he stops pacing.

“Not important?!” Bucky cries and you wince. “How is it not important when it’s literally the biggest elephant in the room! You could have told me to stay away from you and I would have!”

More guilt because he was right but you had your reasons.

“And you! Why would you allow her to just waltz into our lives when you knew exactly what she does?” He’s now pointing to Steve who has his arms crossed over his body defensively. “You let Bailey be with her alone when you knew she had a target on her back!”

“I was trying to get out!”

“She was trying to get out.”

You both defend at the same time but the look Bucky gives you is just incredulous. He scoffs again and tries to compose himself.

“I’m sorry, okay? I swear I was trying to get clean. I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying harder since I met Bailey because I knew that even before we had our thing you’d never approve of me hanging out with her when you finally figured out who i was.” You explain, hurt evident in your voice. “I didn’t mean to put her nor you in danger. You guys are the most important people in my life right now.”

Bucky looks straight at you, trying to find a lie where there is none. He knows this. He can feel it. That’s why despite almost dying his anger never stayed, only concern for your safety left in every fiber of his being. He’s scared that he might lose you when he’d just began to have you in his life.

“And I wouldn’t deliberately put you in harm’s way either, Buck.” Steve adds after a prolonged silence. “Say something, jerk.”

“I don’t want to decide now. Can I sleep on it?” he sighs, head heavy with the million thoughts going through his brain.

“Of course…” you nod hurriedly. “By the way, umm—I think it would be best if you and Bailey stay here for a while. Whoever it was that attacked us knows you’re with me and most likely knows where you live.”

Bucky understands the gravity of the situation so he nods meekly before turning on his heel and returning to the room upstairs. He has decisions to make not only for himself but more importantly, for Bailey’s. He lies beside his daughter peacefully sleeping, kissing her forehead. This was all bigger than you and him, with that thought he drifts into sleep.

Meanwhile, you’re left alone downstairs nursing an inevitable heartache with a bottle of vodka when your phone rings with a familiar number. A deep sinister voice rasps through.

“Did you and your little family like my surprise gift, princess?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finds out that you’re a mobster and he has to decide if he’s willing to stay with you while you try to fix a problem regarding yours and his family’s safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: a skosh of angst, a pinch of fluff and oh, yeah smuttt
> 
> A/N: Thank you so much for being part of this journey. We are finally down to the last chapter! As aways, your feedback mean a lot. Don't be shy and leave me some love notes please UwU

The house is now at peace, the only noise coming from the television buzzing in the background downstairs. You’re sitting on the sofa, legs crossed over each other as you sort through a pile of documents on the coffee table, a mug in hand filled with caffeine and rum, a contradiction alike to your mess of a life. Your forehead is forming lines as you frown the more you’re staring into a piece of paper not aware of the small patter of feet that’s emanating from the rooms above.

Bailey had woken up in an unfamiliar bed beside her father who was snoring too loudly for her liking. She places her small palm on his mouth in the hopes that the sound would stop from escaping his lips, and it does for a couple of seconds while her dad’s face grimaces and returns to snoring again. She leaves the bed and heads out the door, not sure what she’s looking for but her little heart hopes that it’s somewhere in the new surroundings. She passes an open door and finds a familiar face on a large bed. She climbs up on the sheets, knees struggling to move among the plush material before reaching to a raccoon toy sitting up near the headboard.

Bailey descends the stairs, one hand on the railing, the other tight around the raccoon’s paw. She reaches the bottom of the stairs and looks around at the huge house, her breath hitching at the sight of someone she knows. She runs and jumps on the couch you’re in and the mug in your hand splashes its contents on your white rug. None of the forming stains matters now because a beaming face is now before you and your chest feels a lot like when a flower experiences sunlight for the first time.

“Bails!” you greet her, throat itchy from every emotion that you’re trying to push down. You place the mug on the table, along with the paper and the little bunny crawls on the space between your legs, settling there before giving you a good embrace.

“Is this your house? Daddy was sleeping loud again, I had to get away before my ears hurt.” She starts as you cradle her in your arms. “Then I saw the raccoon up there so I know that’s your room so this must be your house.”

“It is, baby. Are you okay? You must have been scared by the noises earlier, huh?” you slowly prod, scared that you might have permanently damaged your little angel. You brush her hair away from her face and look into her eyes as she looks up at you.

“I’m okay. I was scared because it was really loud but daddy said that we were safe because you were there.” She nods and wraps her tiny arms around your neck, her eyes shimmering against the yellow lights from the chandelier. “I cried because I did not know what else to do.”

You nod at her and chuckle. Your brave girl, rattled but unphased. You couldn’t help but plant a sloppy kiss on each of her cheek and on her forehead, each kiss heavier than the previous one.

“What’s wrong, mommy?” Bailey asks you simultaneously wiping a stray tear rolling down your cheek. You didn’t even know when you had started crying but now that a teardrop had escaped the rest just seem to follow and flow on its own. Despite your colossal slip up, she still wants to continue calling you her mom.

You shake your head telling her that nothing is wrong and that you’re crying because you’re happy that she’s safe. You chuckle again, thinking how ridiculous that an adult woman is crying while a seven-year old is sitting on her lap. But you’re just extremely grateful that you still get to hold her like this, despite the events earlier being your fault.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You sniff as you place your hands on both sides of her tiny face. She tilts her head as if to ask what for. “For everything, for putting you in danger, for scaring you and your daddy. I’m so sorry.”

“Okay, I forgive you.” Bailey replies eagerly with a smile despite not knowing the gravity of your apology. She looks behind you towards the kitchen counter then, “Do you think I can eat dinner without waiting for daddy? I’m really hungry.”

You laugh, wiping snot and tears before nodding and you carry her towards the kitchen to give her anything and everything she wants. No more slip ups on your end when it comes to Bailey.

Bucky wakes up some time later, alone on a bed he barely remembers being in. Despite the anxiety that was riddling him earlier that day he slept well on a strange yet comfortable bed, the sheets smelling more of a home than his own. Panic arrives upon realizing that he’s now alone and that his daughter pulled another Houdini while he wasn’t paying attention. He trods downstairs barefoot, groggy from the nap when he hears giggles coming from the kitchen.

His daughter is sitting on the counter with her legs crossed as she enjoys a bowl of food before her, wearing pajamas that he did not put her in. you’re leaning on the counter just in front of his child, looking up at her with a huge smile on your face. He comes closer and observes how your eyes are slightly swollen and red rimmed, a sign of a prior crying despite the glee that is etched on it at the moment. Bucky knows how guilty to feel and he does not intend to prolong your agony any longer, he’s made a decision before he even knows what it is. He clears his throat catching both of your attention.

“Daddy! We made stir fried rice!” Bailey greets her father and lifts the bowl toward him.

You’ve stopped leaning on the counter the kid was sitting on and moved instead to lean back on the counter behind you. Bucky closes in and takes the bowl in his hand before brushing his daughter’s hair behind her ear. She’s looking at him with anticipation handing him a spoon too.

“This tastes great, bun.” He hums after having a spoonful before returning the bowl on the surface. Bailey resumes eating happily.

“You hungry? I made enough for you, too.” You ask him, grabbing another bowl from the shelf and filling it up with the food. Bucky hasn’t even given his answer when you’re already passing him the bowl. He accepts without protest, a tight smile from his lips making you squirm.

The both of them eat quietly while you just stand back and observe, not really knowing how to act now that Bucky was in the room. Bucky must have felt your discomfort so he tries to extend an olive branch in the form of a spoonful of the food you just made. He’s now standing before you, spoon hovering in the air as he waits for you to accept it. You eye Bailey who’s giggling at the scene before her.

“Do I have to make airplane noises just so you would eat? Okay.” Bucky makes what you assume as the airplane noise and makes the spoon fly around before placing it before your mouth again. You shake your head in protest, feeling like a picky toddler.

“Open up for the plane! Open up!” Bailey cheers on and you finally give in, feeling ridiculous as the spoon finally lands into your mouth.

You’re chewing as you and Bucky stare at each other. He nods with a better smile now, more genuine and your waterworks start again. Bucky places the food back down on the counter and envelopes you in his arms. You must look hilarious to him, mouth full of rice and eyes filled with tears.

“The foods not bad, why are you crying?” Bucky teases you and you almost choke while you laugh. The kitchen is now filled with laughter from the three of you, making the once eerily empty sounding house come to life.

The next morning, Steve walks into the loft shoulders heavy with bad news. He feels worse when he sees his niece in the living room eating waffles in front of the TV, her morning cartoons on the screen and then he sees you and Bucky being all lovey-dovey while having breakfast on the table. You’re both sitting too close to each other, giggling at some inside joke he doesn’t want to know about.

“Good morning!” He greets and neither of you acknowledge him. He clears his throat and places a folder on the table. “Boss, Buck.”

“Good morning, pal. Coffee?” Bucky is the first one to respond, leaving his seat to get his friend some coffee with a smile on his face.

Steve really hates his job this instant. He slides the folder to you and you open it, your smile disappearing as you do. You cover your mouth with a hand and stare back at your friend. Bucky asks what’s going on as he pours the coffee and you slide the folder towards him.

“They trashed your café, Buck.” He rushes back beside you and a series of curses escapes his mouth as he sees the photos on the file.

“I’m sorry, Buck. They must have done it last night after they went after you.” Steve explains, not sure how to comfort his best friend. He knew how much blood, sweat and tears the man had put out for that café, it was his whole income and savings.

Bucky sinks down on the seat, not understanding why this was happening. He closes the folder and squeezes his eyes shut when your hand starts to rub his shoulder.

“I’ll take care of it, once and for all.” You tell Bucky before turning to Steve. “Rumlow called last night after the incident. It was his doing.”

Steve is now standing at attention while Bucky’s interest is peaked.

“Who’s Rumlow?” Bucky asks, a headache forming behind his eye sockets. “Why is he going out and destroying _my_ café?”

“He knows how much you mean to me. He’s sending a message. He wants everything I have and he’s not taking no for answer. I have no choice but to give it to him if it means he’ll leave you and Bailey alone.” You explain, taking his hand in yours.

“So you’re going to give it to him?” It’s Steve asking a question he thinks he already knows the answer. You look at him then at Bucky, then a glance at Bailey before you nod.

“You—you can’t. You can’t just give someone all of your assets just because—“

“If it keeps you safe, I’m willing to give him anything he wants. Nothing is worth keeping if I can’t keep the only people I care about out of danger.”

You stand from your seat and gesture to Steve who nods knowingly. You kiss Bucky longingly on the mouth before you place another kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll take care of it. Just stay here while I do so I know you guys are safe.” You tell Bucky before disappearing up the stairs. He looks at his best friend searching for a clarification.

“Trust her methods, pal. She knows what she’s doing.” Steve says clapping Bucky’s shoulder before disappearing into another room.

You and Steve continue to not be around the house for three days. Other men in suits are now guarding the elevators to the loft and Bucky knows more are posted downstairs. You check in with him and Bailey every night before bed, telling him very little of your plans to keep them safe but his gut tells him he already knows.

On the third night of being kept inside the house, his nerves shoot up when he hears noises coming from the room at the other end of the hall in the middle of the night. He stalks down the corridor and finds your door ajar, he pushes it open slightly entering the dark room with caution. There’s rummaging behind a sliding door with a light on so Bucky picks up a nearby vase before approaching the source of the noise. He lifts the object above his head, armed and ready to strike when he sees you struggling out of your clothes, soaked in a dark liquid emitting stench akin to iron and petroleum. You twitch at the sound behind you before raising a gun to Bucky’s face.

“Bucky! You scared me.” You yelp and lower your gun. “You can’t sneak up on me like that.”

You sink down on the floor, your top unbuttoned and open revealing a bullet proof vest beneath it. Bucky places the vase on the floor and kneels before you. He swipes a thumb on your busted lip, still bleeding and inspects the rest of your face. Your left cheek is starting to bruise and you have a cut on your eyebrow.

“Don’t worry. The other guy looks worse.” You tell him, eyes casted downwards as you fiddle with your hands. You lean on the shelf behind you, sinking further into the floor and closing your eyes.

“Let me help.” Bucky manages to say before you hear him disappear from your walk-in into your bathroom. The sound of running water echoes as you remove your boots, exhaustion taking over your body. Bucky returns minutes later and hauls you to your feet.

“Here—let me.” He asks permission as he removes your shirt. You can feel his calloused hands on your shoulders and arms as he pulls on the cloth. Next he unlatches your vest and disposes it on the floor with a thud.

“Bucky, you don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

He continues with the button on your pants which he finds to be leather, unzips it and assists you out off them. When you’re only clad in your underwear he leads you to the bathtub he had left running. You slowly step into the tub, groaning when you finally lie in the water as it sloshes your chin with bubbles.

Bucky sits on the floor watching you wince even with your eyes closed. He stays there for what feels like hours, the silence heavy and yet somehow comfortable. He doesn’t understand it either but he knows he’s far gone when it comes to you because despite all the questions he has in his head, his priority right now was to make sure that you’re not hurt.

“I- I took care of Rumlow. He won’t be bothering any of us ever again.” You finally speak after the prolonged quiet.

Bucky knows what it means but he can’t imagine you right now in your state to be someone who was capable of violence.

“I had to kill him Buck. Or else he would have hurt you and Bailey. I can live with him dying but I can’t—I can’t live without you or Bailey anymore.” You whisper, voice hoarse. Tears overflowing from your eyes and merging into the bathwater bellow.

Bucky knows this that’s why he doesn’t flinch when you say it. He sighs, he can’t find it in his heart to feel anything but relief. He reaches for your hand in the tub and rubs your knuckles, reddened from what you’ve been doing while you were gone.

“Sshh shh. It’s okay now. We’re okay now. You had to do what needed to be done.” He finally whispers back before kissing your knuckles one by one.

After your bath, Bucky helps you dry up and into sleep clothes. You were moving sluggishly, continuously crying even now. He tucks you into your own bed and lies beside you, shushing you when sobs escape your lips, whispering comfort. His big bad mob boss is a crying mess not because she just did something drastic for his and his daughter’s safety but because she was scared about having the light shone on her activities.

“I understand if you don’t want to see me ever again after this but for now will you just hold me?” you sniffle into his chest before looking up into his eyes.

“What makes you think I’m leaving you?” he replies, confused as to why you were trying to get rid of him. “I’m not going anywhere, doll. Not after you risked your life for us. Not after you had to break your oath to turn a new leaf for us.”

“Doesn’t it scare you that I kill people to get what I want?” you ask him, eyes pleading for him to answer otherwise.

“No, doll. I’m more scared of losing you more.” Bucky tells you, his eyes glimmering in the dark. He caresses your face before giving you a soft peck on the lips. You return the favor and the kiss turns more fervent, more desperate and bruising.

You moan into the kiss, tongues lashing out on each other not for dominance but for desperation in the hopes the message would come across. Both of you had waited for this moment, you can feel it as your stomach coils tightly with every swipe of his tongue. Your bodies are pushed together closer, tighter in the hopes to bridge a connection that has been continuously denied.

Bucky hand wanders onto your hip before it slips under your shirt. You moan at the sensation and put your hand on top of his, encouraging him to go higher.

“Bucky—please.” You sigh as your lips temporarily detach when he kisses your jaw down to your neck.

He positions himself on top you, his thigh between your legs now making you squirm as it brushes your crotch. A knee nudges your legs to open them up more as his hand finally reaches a breast and massages it slowly before pulling slightly on a nipple. You moan again wanton for more friction.

“Shh, I got you. I got you like you got me.” Bucky continues to kiss lower into your collarbone before he reaches for your shirt and pulls it over your head.

He kisses a trail down, between the space of your breasts before taking on into his mouth and suckling on a hardened nipple earning a hum from you. Your hip involuntarily lifting off of the mattress and pressing itself onto his body. He continues down to your navel before he grabs the band of your pajama pants and drags it down and off your body. He kisses your exposed mound now, down to your inner thigh, holding them open for access. His head disappears between your legs and you feel him lick a stripe on your folds.

“So wet, honey. I’ll make you feel good.”

“Please—please, please.”

He gives you more licks before focusing on the bundle of nerves on the top making you squirm more. He peeks at your face, mouth open wantonly with your eyes closed, your fingers down twisting your nipples in need. He tries a finger in and the tightness makes his cock twitch on the bed achingly.

_Oh._

You react well enough to earn you another finger as he continues to suck on your clit. He curls his fingers up and he can feel you start to clench on them, your hands finding security in his hair as you hold on it for support. A couple more thrusts of his fingers and he has you coming on them, his name on your lips and your juices coating his hand. He continues his ministrations while you ride your high, hands now gripping the sheets near your head. When you finally come down with a sigh, he removes himself and licks his fingers.

“You taste so good, doll.” He praises you making you smirk and look at him.

“You’re still in your clothes.” You tell him and reach for him, removing his shirt and pants quickly. “I need you inside me, Bucky.”

You pull him up to you and push him to sit up by the headboard. You straddle him and align yourself, moaning as you sink down.

“Fuck, honey. You feel so good.” He smiles, grabbing your face and kissing you deeply. You roll your hips experimentally making Bucky cuss into your mouth.

“Yeah? You fit me perfectly, Buck—so perfect.” You moan as you roll and bounce on his dick, relishing in the fullness of him inside you. Your mind is hazy from the feel of him, so big, warm and _good_. The wait was definitely worth it.

Bucky has been thinking about this moment too, when he finally gets to be with you. He looks up at your face as you ride him, your pupils blown out with lust and desire for him. You’ve done so much to change his life forever and now that he’s tasted you he doesn’t want to go back to whatever he was before you. Your cunt is squeezing him so tight he’s going to blow too soon and he knows it but he doesn’t care.

He wraps his arms around your middle pulling you closer and deeper. You respond by wrapping your arms around his shoulders, his head resting between your breasts. More moans and grunts from both of you before you feel yourself close again.

“I’m gonna cum, Bucky.”

“Cum for me, doll. Go ahead, let it go. I got you.”

And just as he says it you clench as your body shudders, white lightning flashing all over. You scream his name again as it hits you. He continues to thrust up on you, coming right after you do your name rolling off his tongue when he does. Pants echo in your room, synchronizing as you try to calm down. You look down at Bucky, mouth open as you try to catch your breath. He looks up and chuckles as he stares back.

“Hi.” He says before kissing you again.

“Hey.” You respond with a giggle.

Right now there is nowhere you’d rather be. But then a squeak by the door interrupts you and you scramble for the sheets to cover you up before diving off of Bucky.

“Daddy? Is mommy home now?” Bailey asks sleepily from the door.

“Yeah, baby I’m here.” You reply, your heart in your throat from the embarrassment. Bucky just chuckles beside you.

“Okay. I’m thirsty.” Bailey says as she begins to enter the room and go nearer the bed.

“I’ll get you some water. You can sit here.” Bucky pats the space by his foot too calmly while you gather more sheets to cover yourself with. He then picks up his pants from the floor and puts them on under the covers before leaving the bed to turn the light on. He throws a wink at you before going out the door.

Bailey crawls up the bed with a yawn lying down beside you. You boop her nose with the hand not holding on to the sheets and she giggles.

“I missed you, mommy.” She tells you reaching out her little hand to your face and you lower it so she can cup it. You kiss her nose and she giggles some more. “Is your work done now?”

“Missed you too, bunny.” You smile down at her, your heart full with so much love. “Yeah, baby. Mommy’s work is done.”

Bucky returns then with a glass of water and hands it to his—your daughter. He reaches for your hand, holding on tight when you have it. Just like how you have his heart and how you hold it in your those very same hands.

##  **~FIN~**


End file.
